


Flynn Wanted

by Spannah339



Series: Sun and Moon AU [15]
Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon), Tangled (2010)
Genre: Gen, Hurt Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:35:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25514383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spannah339/pseuds/Spannah339
Summary: He wakes
Series: Sun and Moon AU [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1823434
Comments: 15
Kudos: 102





	1. Chapter 1

Eugene woke with a gasp, pain throbbing through his whole body. For a moment, he tried to push himself up, but his head spun and whiteness filled his vision, pain growing intense enough to almost knock him out again. 

What had happened? Where was he? The last thing he could remember was the woods, they were camping, and then - 

The Stabbingtons. 

_ Varian _ . 

He tried to push himself up again, letting out a gasp of pain as his body betrayed him. He wasn’t outside, he could tell that much, and fear grew, cold and  _ hard _ in his chest. 

“Varian?” he called out, his voice soft and weak. Where was his brother? Was he alright? Was he  _ alive _ ?

“Nope, is’just me,” a slurred voice came from across the room, wherever he was. “And my yam.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a dark and cool night on July the 18th, 2020 and I sat down to write a sequel to Zeeb's latest fic, Make You Proud.  
> Ten minutes later I was clearly possed by the soul of Shorty who wanted to release his words to the world and I was but a vessel for this important information of 'and my yam'. Who am I to disagree? I could no longer write ANYTHING on this fic and spent the entire next day hiding giggles everytime thought about it.  
> We release it into the world. Do with it as you will, but use this knowledge wisely.
> 
> The next chapter is the actual story.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I won't leave you hanging anymore. There's no surprise Shorty in this one, I promise, it's the actual story!

The pain was a fog over his mind, covering everything, trapping him in an aching blur of half-consciousness. For a long time, he just drifted, the effort of struggling back into full consciousness too much. But something was nagging at the back of his mind, something he needed to address, something he needed to think about. 

Eugene came to full consciousness slowly, becoming aware of his surroundings as his side continued to throb. He was lying on something hard, feeling surprisingly cold. 

With a small groan of pain, he opened his eyes, staring up at the stone walls rising above him, at the stone roof above his head. 

Where was he? 

His memory abandoned him for the moment, pain and fogginess from being unconscious making it difficult to think. But there was something important - something worrying. He just couldn’t remember what it was. 

He tried to push himself up to get a better look at where he was but even that slight movement was enough to send his vision swimming, pain shooting through him. He lay back with a gasp, closing his eyes. 

Something warm and soft pressed into his shoulder, a familiar sound drawing his attention. Forcing his eyes open again, he made out Ruddiger’s face hanging over his own, the raccoon’s eyes surprisingly full of worry. 

The sight of Ruddiger jump-started his memory and he let out a curse, moving to push himself up again. 

“Varian?” he called, hearing his voice echo around the empty room - cell? Fear twisted in his chest and he gritted his teeth, forcing himself to a sitting position, fighting back nausea and pain. 

“Varian? Blue, where are you?” he called, his voice weaker than he expected it would be. The Stabbingtons - the Stabbingtons had been there and they had… what had they  _ done _ to Varian? 

Eugene was alone - alone in a cell, no doubt in the depths of the Corona palace. Varian was  _ gone _ and he had no  _ idea _ what had happened. 

He leaned heavily against the wall, seated on the floor and closing his eyes. Sitting up had sapped his strength and he felt like he was never going to be able to move again. Ruddiger gave a small trill, butting his hand in concern. 

“What happened, buddy?” Eugene muttered, blinking his eyes open again. Ruddiger chirped, bounding onto his shoulder and curling around his neck tightly. Eugene lifted a slightly shaky hand to bury it in the raccoon’s fur. 

He sat that way for a long time, Ruddiger comforting over his shoulders. He may have drifted into a fitful sleep, may have been awake for hours. Time didn’t seem to have any meaning as he sat, a million possibilities of what could have happened to Varian flashing through his mind. 

_ “I need to find him _ ,” the thought finally came. “ _ I need to get out of here and I need to find him. I need to know he’s alright _ .” 

Usually, he would have no trouble in picking the lock to a cell like this or stealing the keys from a guard. But the state he was in, he wasn’t sure he could even stand for any length of time, let alone pick a lock and escape the castle. 

Information first. He scanned the cell from where he was seated - a classic Corona prison cell, he’d escaped worse before. Two guards seemed to be on duty, patrolling up and down every few minutes - that likely meant he wasn’t the only prisoner. Either that, or his reputation proceeded him. 

Taking a deep breath, he pressed a hand to the wall behind him, closing his eyes and bracing himself to stand. Ruddiger leapt off his shoulder, looking up at him in concern as he struggled to his feet. 

“I’m okay, buddy,” he muttered, leaning heavily against the wall. “Just… give me a sec.” 

Once he thought he had recovered significantly to be able to cross the cell, he took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, pressing a hand over the wound (someone had bandaged it - when had that happened? It seemed too neat for Varian’s rough field first aid).

Ruddiger chirped, bounding a few paces ahead of him to the cell’s bars, looking back up at him. Eugene took a deep breath and stepped forward, forcing himself to keep moving until he felt the cold metal of the bars under his hand. For a long moment, he stood, one hand gripping the bar, the other pressed over his wound, his forehead against the bars. 

Then he set his teeth and leaned back, resting one hand on the cell door and trying to look casual. 

“Hey!” he called, catching the attention of the guards. They had stopped at the far end of the prison, talking to each other, and at Eugene’s call, they both looked up. 

“Oh, you’re awake!” one of them - the smaller, less stocky one - said. He moved across the room, stopping in front of Eugene’s cell - a few paces away, Eugene noted, not failing to miss the keys on his belt. “How’re you feeling?” 

“Me? Oh, I’m feeling fine. Nothing like a light stabbing to get you up in the morning,” Eugene said, waving a hand in a dismissive gesture, fighting back the grimace of pain. “As much as I appreciate the help, and the aid in… y’know, not bleeding out everywhere, I do kinda have places to be.” 

“Oh, no, you have to stay there, sorry. The queen said to give you medical help, but you are a wanted thief.” 

“Well, when you put it  _ that  _ way -” Eugene began, but was interrupted by the other guard joining them. He was larger, a moustache that was clearly grown with great pride in the centre of his face. 

“Hey Pete, what’s going on?” he asked. 

“Flynn Rider’s awake,” Pete provided helpfully. Eugene flashed a smile and a wave. 

“I can see that, what does he want?” the other guard asked. 

“I was about to say that,” Eugene said, butting into the conversation. It was going on a little too long, and his side was beginning to throb. “Listen, Pete, other guy who’s name I don’t kn-” 

“Stan,” Pete provided helpfully. Eugene waved a hand in a dismissive thanks. 

“Stan, Pete, you don’t happen to know what happened to the kid?” 

He tried to sound casual - sounding too frantic for information was just an invitation for others to hold that information over you. But his voice slipped slightly as he ended the question, a fraction of the worry and pain and fear he was feeling slipping through. 

“Uuh, kid?” Pete asked. 

“Oh, he means the blue-haired one,” Stan said matter-of-factly. Eugene’s heart leapt at that - blue hair, that was obviously Varian. Concern began growing again - Varian’s hair was very rarely blue anymore

“Yeah, blue-haired kid,” he said, forcing himself to keep his voice even, his breathing regular. “What happened to him?” 

The two guards exchanged a look in a way that was infuriatingly slow. Eugene wanted nothing more than to reach through the bars and grab them, shake them,  _ force them _ to tell him if Varian was  _ alright _ . 

“Uh, he used magic, right?” Stan said, looking at Pete. Pete frowned. 

“I think it was magic - his hair was blue.” 

“Yeah, but the blue hair could have just been the moonlight.” 

“True. But it did  _ glow _ , which probably wasn’t the moonlight.” 

Eugene pressed his forehead to the cold bar, closing his eyes and fighting down the urge to scream. With a deep breath that sent pain shooting up his side, he opened his eyes again.

“Can you just tell me if he’s alright?” he asked, too tired and hurt to care about keeping his concern hidden. 

“He uh… ran off,” Stan said, sounding almost apologetic. Eugene looked up at that, the fear he had been feeling fading somewhat. 

“He was alright though?” he asked. Pete shrugged. 

“He seemed real upset.” 

“We weren’t expecting him to bolt,” Stan admitted. 

Eugene couldn’t help but feel a little proud of the kid. Evading the guard, escaping arrest - he had been trained well. 

It didn’t make the situation that much better. And Varian was still out there. Alone. 

“But he was alive? And he was safe? And the Stabbingtons?” He was asking too many questions, he knew, but he  _ needed to know _ . If he wasn’t by his brother’s side, who knew what would happen to Varian. 

“The Stabbingtons?” Pete asked. 

“Oh, were  _ they _ the guys who told us about you?” Stan said. 

“I  _ thought _ there was something suspicious about them.” 

“They left as well,” Stan said. 

Eugene leaned heavily against the bars, trying not to let the storm of emotions he was feeling visible. At least he knew Varian was  _ alive _ . His pain-fogged and exhausted brain was having trouble processing anything more. 

“Well, we should probably get back to patrolling,” Pete said. “Good to talk to you, Flynn Rider!” 

Eugene didn’t move as they left, still talking together, their words blurring in his mind. He didn’t have the strength to stand anymore and stumbled back a few paces to sit heavily on the low bench along the side of the cell. 

He leaned against the wall, one hand still pressed to his side. He could feel warm wetness under his hand - blood was beginning to soak through the bandage, clearly his movement had agitated it. 

Ruddiger leapt up beside him, his fur warm on Eugene’s leg. Eugene laid his other hand on the raccoon’s fur, closing his eyes and focusing on breathing. 

He needed a plan. He needed to get out of here as soon as possible and find Varian, make sure his brother was alright. It was the ‘getting out of here’ part that was stumping him currently. 

The state he was in, he wasn’t going to get far. The way the blood was seeping through his shirt again proved that. But he couldn’t afford to wait, who knows what was happening to Varian out there, alone. 

He must have dozed because the light coming through his small window was dim when he came back to himself. Ruddiger was sleeping beside him, his small body evenly rising and falling with every breath. 

A plan. He needed a plan. 

~*~

His plan was put into action three days later. He would have attempted it sooner, but the pain in his side told him he wasn’t going to be able to move fast enough to get out of the city, and the guards outside proved too uninterested. Every moment was painful, imagining Varian out there alone, imagining what might happen if he ran into the Stabbingtons -  _ alone _ . 

But three days after he had first woken up offered him his chance. Stan and Pete were back on guard detail, and they both seemed bored. Ruddiger chattered softly beside him and he rubbed the raccoon’s head, standing with a little less pain than the day before. 

“Stan, Pete!” he called. They both perked up at his call, moving to stand in front of his cell. “You’re looking sharp today,” Eugene said, keeping his voice casual. “Did you do something different with the moustache?”

“I’m glad someone noticed,” Stan said. He shot a glare at Pete who rolled his eyes. 

“It’s not like you noticed when I got a haircut.” 

“That’s because you wear a helmet.” 

“So do you!” 

“My helmet doesn’t cover my moustache.” 

“Boys, boys, you’re both pretty,” Eugene said, raising a hand to stop them before the bickering got out of hand. “Now, I was wondering - do you guys have an autograph book. I mean, you managed to capture  _ me _ , Flynn Rider! Surely that deserves an autograph?” 

Stan and Pete exchanged a glance. Then, to Eugene’s immense surprise, Pete cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly.

“I uh… I was actually going to ask if you would sign mine,” he admitted. For a second, Eugene wasn’t quite sure how to react - he hadn’t expected his ploy to actually result in anything. He recovered quickly, grinning and holding a hand out of the cell. 

“Great! Hand it over and I’ll sign it.” 

With a slight glare from Stan, Pete withdrew a small autograph book and a pencil, holding the book out and handing the pencil to Eugene. He quickly signed  _ Flynn Rider _ with a flourish, dotting the i dramatically and handing the pencil back. 

“Wonderful,” he said. “Anything I can do for you, Stan?” Ruddiger chirped softly by his leg and he gently rubbed the raccoon with his foot, not looking down. “No? Well, I won’t keep you. It’s been a pleasure.” 

With a muttered comment about autographs not being protocol from Stan, the two guards returned to their patrol. Eugene crouched as they vanished from sight, holding out a hand to Ruddiger. The raccoon smugly deposited the keychain he had pilfered from Pete while the guard had been distracted. 

“Thanks buddy,” Eugene muttered. “Now how do we get out of here?” 

The answer to that question came not long after, with distance shouts and guards beginning to run through the halls. Eugene frowned, moving painfully to the window and trying to peer out - there seemed to be something big going on. 

“It’s the crown!” someone shouted, and Eugene felt a slight rush of annoyance - was something  _ really _ trying to steal the princess’s crown? That had been something he’d always wanted to do. 

(For a moment, he thought of his crown, still hidden in the depths of his bag. He had shoved it down there, deep, years ago and didn’t think about it much. He still wasn’t ready to part with it yet.)

The distraction was just what he needed. He quickly flicked the keys in the lock, pushing the door to the cell open and slipping out. 

With Ruddiger on his shoulder, he made his way through the halls of the castle, ducking around corners to avoid detection. He had studied the layout of the castle before - in case he  _ had  _ wanted to steal the princess’s crown - and it didn’t take long to find himself on the streets of Corona, a quick pitstop to pick up his bag and make sure the crown was still nestled at the bottom. Clearly the guard hadn’t looked through it yet. 

The streets were busy - busier than he had expected them to be, but that only served to help him slip through unnoticed. He kept to the shadows, Ruddiger gripping on tightly, trying to hide his bloodstained shirt as much as possible. 

The people of Corona ignored him, greeting their neighbours, talking, laughing. It was the presences of the lanterns that made Eugene realized  _ why _ the streets were so busy; tomorrow was the lost princess’ birthday, the citizens were preparing for the celebrations. 

The first time he had seen the lanterns he had been speechless. Varian had practically climbed him, placing his smaller hands on Eugene’s shoulders and staring up at them through the trees they were camping out in. 

The year after that, they had made an effort to be in Corona itself to watch the lanterns rise, and there was certainly something magical about watching them float into the sky, a bittersweet siren call for a girl who would likely never hear it. 

(Part of him wondered if his father would have ever done that for him. Part of him wondered if his father even missed him at all.)

Now he was grateful for the business the preparations brought, for the cover they gave him as he slipped towards freedom. 

He was almost across the bridge when things started to go wrong. A glance over his shoulder at he caught sight of a white horse and rider, galloping quickly towards him. The flash of gold from the rider was enough to spur him into pulling Ruddiger off his shoulders and run, clutching the raccoon close. 

“Rider!” came the distant call and he recognised the voice as the Captain of the guard. 

Despite the pain in his side and the worry he still had for Varian, he couldn’t help grin a little. This was more like it, the wind in his hair, the rough ground under his boots. Sure he may be running for his life, but there was a  _ thrill _ to it, a thrill he had never experienced back in the Dark Kingdom. 

The chase lasted longer than he would have liked. Through the forest, down a cliff, that stubborn horse was  _ far _ more persistent than its rider. Finally, his side sending spikes of agony through his body with every breath, he found himself stumbling into a hidden cave. 

Ruddiger bounded forward a few paces as he gratefully leaned against the wall of the cave, holding his breath while the horse passed by outside. For a long moment, he sat, head against the rough stone, regaining his strength. 

The Ruddiger chirped from further in, and he realized this place was too light to be just a cave. Curious, he moved forward, blinking slightly as he emerged into the sun. 

It was a hidden clearing, a waterfall running down the cliffs, creating a small river that wandered through the lush grass of the hidden paradise. 

But that wasn't what drew Eugene’s attention. There was a tower, rising high and splendidly, old but solid, in the centre of the clearing. Ruddiger bounded up his shoulder as Eugene leaned one hand on the side of the cliff face, looking up at the tower. 

“This looks like a good a place as any to lay low and figure out our next move,” he muttered, adjusting the strap of his bag and stepping towards the tower. 


End file.
